Fire and Fury
by Farzi
Summary: The organization has managed to create a new type of warrior-the marine-a male warrior that can control their power. After loosing his family nearly 7 years ago, Raki is one such marine, along side Clare and the other warriors fighting a war against the abyssals, he learns not only the harsh truth about war, but about himself as well. Warning-strong language and violence.
1. Act 1-Prelude to War

Call this the result of me either playing waay too many games or just simply putting my own twist on the claymore series.

Having read the majority of the series, as well as reading a number of the other fanfics, I decieded to write one of my own. The story is loosely based on the original, and is in a more modern setting, only the Organization, in its "War" against the yoma have created its very first marines-soldiers who are mass produced claymores, throught the means of energy projection and manipulation by some of the stronger "true" warriors.

Through the use of energy saturiation, a process that involves projecting yoma energy and spreading it throughout the subject's body, they have created a male warrior that can successfully control their power-however, the results is weaker than a typical claymore, the strongest amoung them only on par with a female warrior of rank 20. Although well trained and armed, the organization treats these troopers as expendable, sending them into highly dangerous situations that more skilled warriors should handle.

This is the story of one such marine-Raki-after a claymore by the name of Clare rescues him. After months of intense training, Raki is assigned to Unit K35-Alpha 1, there he not only meets his savior, but also learns the true meaning of war...

P.S.-It's been a long time since I've written a story, so excuse the poor quality of the first chapter-it'll take some time for me to get back into the swing of things. I will try to do as much as I can with each of the chars presented in the series.

Notes: I went through and editited each of the original chapters-adding additional content and a new prolouge-it should be noted that now each new 'chapter' is organized into Acts, and each act will contain multiple chapters and may be split up into several parts-I hope this dosen't bother people-It's so that way I can get more than one chapter in a day.

Prologue

_It began, as always, with the desire for power...to control, to consume..._

A tiny woman, possibly no older than fifteen, dressed in a simple white shift, stood upon a mountain side, the setting sun tinting everything a reddish orange, casting a long shadow upon ground from which she stood. Her brown eyes scanned the horizon-a gentle breeze casing a few stray strands of her long black hair to wave cross her face.

_From hundreds of small, petty conflicts and desputes, there rose a great war-two sides fighting for control of the great content...one gained the upper hand quickly, making an alliance witha trirbe of non-humans...the descendants of dragons..._

Yet this was no ordinary girl-hidden beneath this seemningly inocent facade was a creature of enormous power-a creature known as an Awakened Being-failed members of a group of Warriors known as Claymores. She was one of the three-powerful creatures known as the Abyssal Ones.

Riful, of the west.

A smile crossed her seemingly innocent features. She had heard about Isley's attempted foray into the south. The organization had stopped him cold, though at great cost...

_And thus we were born-Claymore warriors-created to fight the Dragon-kin-creature of tremendous power...The first warriors were male-incredably powerful...but much more voliatile. Prone to what is called awkening, unable to control their yoki...that is, until recently._

It had been nearly 15 years since the battle of Pieta...fifteen years to plan, to build, to prepare. Her forces were ready, battle plans were drawn, the strengths and weakness of the various forces of the organization were caculated-people were in key positions, prepared to strike in a way that would bring the organization to its knees...

'Oh yes,' She thought, a chuckle escaping her lips, 'This was going to be fun.' She heard footsteps appraoching from behind her, and turned. A large, musclar man with short blond hair was standing not three feet behind her-Dauf, her consort and long time companion. "Riful..." He said in a deep rumble that sounded as if though it was coming from deep inside an empty ale keg, "Chronos says...uh...that the troops are ready, but them marines attacked one of the staging areas..." A twinge of annoyance crossed the Abyssals features at this news-ever since they had been created-Male warriors who were more stable, but weaker, these marines were a constant thorn in her side. The results had been a major boost in manpower, the organization having the numbers to deal with whatever troubles came up. If the standard claymores didn't have the resources to deal with the problem...

Well, the marines were sent in...

"I told those idiots to make sure that any major force we put together was to stay hidden!" She seetheed, causing the man to shrink back from her, "No doubt it was a stray patrol, probably hunting bandits." The man shook his head vigorusly, trying to placate his lover before she ended up hurting him. "No, he says they was well ar'md, bunch of them tanks and whir'ly birds." Riful _hmmed_, then looked up at him, "Then they must of been hunting an awakened being, that's the only explination for a fully armed regiment combing around-no doubt because so many people went missing, those idiot yoma can never restrain themselves for long..."

What was worse, the marines probably got a few prisoners-cowards who surrendered hoping to be spared-that means they would know what was going on! Why they were there! "Dauf!" She snapped, whirling around at the large man, causing him to flinch, "Relay a message to Chronos-tell him I want all our forces mobilzed immedately and strike according to plan!" She would not have this turn into another Pieta!

_Isely made a mistake-he moved too soon too quickly-the organization had the time to put together a strike force capable of stopping him completely. I will not make the same mistakes...our strategy is simple-cut off the head of the snake-and the body will die..._

"But Riful-if the organization-they-they-" She silenced her lover with a hand. "The organization will be unable to do anything but flounder once we attack-the marine strike forces will be cripple and defenses overrun once we start-our people are in place, and can effectively sabatoge key points in production and defenses!" That was if they hadn't screwed up somewhere along the line. "And once their chain of command falls-well it will only be a matter of time."

"Now go." Dauf decieded to leave and just simply do what he was told-even he wouldn't test Riful when she was in one of her moods. As he left, the tiny abyssal went back to scanning the horizon.

_And so it begins..._

xxxxxxxxx

Chapter 1

_7 years ago_

_Her blade passed cleanly thought the creature's tough hide, its hideous features twisting in agony as its arm flew, purplish blood splattering across the ground. "Please...no..." It hissed, pain breaking that wretched, inhuman voice, "Let me go-" Its plea for mercy was cut off as a blure of motion suddenly sent its head flying..._

_Clare looked around..."What a mess," She muttered, her normally calm, emotionless features showing a faint look of pity. Blood was everywhere-the humans had put up fight-shell casings littered the floor, and there were holes in the wall where the slugs had missed. The man had died trying to protect his wife and child, his gun hand shredded-ending in a tattered mess of tendons and bone. His wife hadn't faired much better, her fair features contorted in agony as what was left of her body lay splayed across her son's corpse._

_Judging by the way her hands were on her son's body and the position, the woman had tried using her son as a shield...selfish bitch...using your own child as a shield to try and save your own life, not that it had mattered in the end. She reached up, adjusting her helmet radio, prepairng to call in, when...something moved in the corner._

_Reading her great blade, her silver eyes bright and alert, scanning the room for any potential threats. Perhaps she was overrea-what was that? Something moved in the corner of her eye-swinging her blade around to meet this new threat._

xxxxxxx

_Raki fell backwards with a cry, throwing his arms up defensively, closing his eyes and flinching away. He was dead-the yoma had devored his parents and brother-he had witnessed his mother throw Zaki infront of her in an attempt to save her self, and now this woman was going to kill him...until he felt a hand on his head. He looked up at her, her silver eyes pinning him with an intense stare. "Your parents..." She said in a soft voice, "dead...family gone..."_

_Raki looked up at her, tears clouding his vision...he could hear the screams echoeing in his head, the blood flying, his father trying to defend them...failing...dying. His mother throwing Zaki infront of her, into the path of that, that monster, then watching her die-his family being devoured before his very eyes. The small boy broke down crying, his mind unable to process what had just happened._

_The claymore contined staring at him, listening to his sobbing..._

xxxxxxx

_Clare continued watching the boy, his shoulders bobbing up and down as he cried. Scanning the room, she saw where he had hidden-a small cabinet, one that only a small child would be able to fit in. 'He must of crawled in there when the yoma attacked.' It was the only reason he had survived. Shaking her head, she knew now what she had to do. "Boy," She said, keeping her voice firm but gentle. The child looked up, his brown eyes red-rimmed and tears still streaking down his face. "What is your name?"_

_"R-Raki." He choked, his scrawny frame still shaking. Clare crouched down, bringing herself to his level. "Raki..." Her face was without any trace of emotion, "You have no family now, and any village you go to will surely cast you out...such is the way of things." She saw shadows of her own past, of an attack, her own mother and father killed...a blade flashing-she hugged him, holding the boy against her, trying to provide some measure of comfort despite the chill of her flesh._

_Looking down at the child she held against her, she saw what she had been-small, frightened, helpless...He was an orphan now, and regulations required it. Gathering the boy up in her arms, she left the small farmhouse-an easy target for radiers or yoma-the nearest town being several miles away. He was still in shock..._

_Better he had died in that farmhouse with his familiy, than what was going to happen to him now._

xxxxxx

_She had been walking for several hours now, and child had finally cried himself to sleep, a slight snore escaping from him, tear stains running down his face. Clare shook her head as she looked at the burden in her arms. This small child had no idea what was in store for him. Striding along the path, she came upon a small cliff, maybe a hundred feet straight down-more than enough to kill a small child._

_The woman sighed-here she was, contemplating killing a small child, but it would be mercy-he would either live as an outcast, or be forced into the organization. "I hope your not thinking of killing him Clare..." came a smug, oily voice, "Such a thing is forbidden, as you well know." She turned, as gaunt, pale skeleton of a man came into view-dressed in a black tunic and pants, a wide-brimmed hat sat upon his head, black as well, and dark tinted glasses concealed his eyes-which were a disturbingly deep purple whenever he took them off._

_The guy was just plain creepy, in the opinions of many of the warriors._

_"No Rubel...I..." Her voice trailed off, unable to properly form in her mouth. The man gave her a thin lipped smile, chuckling to himself. "The organization would take a dim view of a claymore killing an ordinary person, particularly of a potential recruit." He held his hands; a geusture that implied she should hand the boy over, "Don't worry, we'll find a place for him."_

_Gritting her teeth, she reluctantly handed the boy over. "Is their a problem?" He asked, smiling smugly as he took the child from him. "No," She replied, keeping her voice calm and level, face deviod of any emotion, "There isn't."_

_"Excellent, I will take him back to headquarters." He turned, and paused a moment, "If you wish, I will keep you posted on his training." Clare nodded her consent-she could at least keep an eye on the boy, if simply by monitoring his training. _

_"As you wish." _

_She watched as Rubel walked away with the boy in his arms, face neutral, eyes emotionless, not betraying how she felt about the matter. 'Damn you Teresa...damn you."_

xxxxxx

_As Ruble carried the small child, he simply smiled-Clare was quite amusing-she took after her mother in that way. The woman had contemplated the murder of a small child, but then again, he supposed he couldn't blame her-the boy would end up joining the organization, simply because they needed meat for the grinder-so to speak. And she had taken an interest in him..._

_Perhaps this just what he needed to complete his mission-but how to finish the job...so to speak. But for now...for now __**she**__ would do-yes she would do quite nicely._

xxxxxx

_Raki woke, laying upon a bed in a strange room-it looked as if though someone had made their home in a cave-but the walls looked a little too smooth to be natural. The only light source in the room was a dim lantern-who used oil lamps these days? He couldn't see much of the room-most of it was too dark to make out, although a single, iron bound door was the only distinct feature he could make out._

_"Ah...so your awake." The boy nearly jumped out of his skin as a man's voice came from one of the darkened corners of the room. A man, dressed completly in black, his face hidden by some kind of hood. He stepped foward, his language nonthreatening. "W-who are you?" Raki asked, his voice trembling with fear. The man chuckled, his laugh sending shivers up his spine. "You do not need to concern yourself with that-just know this-I am going to make you an offer."_

_The man knelt, bringing himself to Raki's level, his cold red eyes looking into the boy's brown ones. "At this point, no village or city will welcome you-not openly anyways." He didn't quite understand what the man was getting at. "Life will be hard for you-harder than you can imagine-however..."_

_"There is another option-" The man held out his hand to the boy as he stood, "Take my hand, and we will find place for you."_

_"We?" A tall, wavy haired woman with silver eyes and pale, alablaster skin stepped out from behind the man. 'Where did she come from.' A faint, knowing smile graced her lips-he then noted the huge greatsword strapped to her back. 'A claymore!' He thought, though he must of said aloud because the woman simply chuckled. "He's catching on," she said, looking him over, "If he accepts, he's got the makings of a good marine in him."_

_"Think about this boy; Would you rather live as a derilect, being forced moved place to place simply because you were orphaned by a yoma? Or would you rather have a place where you can call home?" The woman had laid out the facts in front of him-he had heard tales of young children being banished from their homes simply because they had lost their families to a yoma attack-it had been that way for a long time-hundreds of years had not change the fear of those who survived such attacks were yoma themselves._

_Raki hesitantly reached out for the man's outstreatched hand...it was not a difficult choice, but there was still something nagging at the back of his mind. "What's your name boy?" The claymore asked as he was led out of the room and down a darkened hall. "Raki." He replied as they entered another room-this one had harsh lights, their brilliance nearly blinding compared to the dark, nearly lightless halls before. It looked like some sort of operating room._

_"Raki," The woman said as the man checked the instrements on one of the tables, "I need you to take your shirt off and lay on this table." The claymore pointed to a steel operating table. He did as he was told, clambering on with a little difficulty. "Let us begin." The man placed some kind of mask over his face, and then darkness over took him._

xxxxxx

_Teresa stared at the unconcious form of the young boy that Rubel had brought to headquarters-for some reason or another he had specifically requested that she was the one who turned him into a marine. The doctor made a slight incision into the boy's abdomen, and then geustured to her to begin. This was the unpleasant part..._

_She summoned her yoki, concentrating it in her right hand as she slid it inside the cut-now came the tricky part. She began to release the energy in tightly controlled stream-the boy's body jerked slightly, the sudden influx of power causing him to spasm involentarily. 'Not too much or we'll lose him.' The claymore closed her eyes, sensing the power and carefully spreading it to every inch of his body._

_Now saturated with yoki energy, Raki was now sweating profuriously in a seditive induced coma, a slight wimper escaping his lips as his body was wracked with the pain of his transformation. The wound its self had healed, but the scar remained-a permanent reminder of what he was. Picking up the boy, she made her way back to the room where they had brought him before. His life after this was going to be a living hell, provided he didn't break first._

xxxxxx

_Little pitter-patters of conciousness began to play around in his head-Raki felt like he'd been run over by a truck._

_He looked down-a thin, jagged scar, no more than maybe an inch or two across was on his belly. "So your awake again," He turned at the sound of the familiar voice-it was that woman again. "You seemed to have survived your transformation quite nicely." Transformation? What was she talking about? "Raki." Her voice was gentle, almost sympathetic. She was sitting in a chair across from his bed, "No one told you exactly what you agreed to, did they?" He shook his head-it was true, and she had been forbidden to say anything. "You've become one of the marines-a new type of warrior we've been fielding within the last 18 years." And she had had a hand in that..._

_"The training will be hard, harder than you can imagine, but-" She stood and place da hand on his head, "Keep your family in mind-use their love and memories that live within you to stay strong." Teresa turned, shaking her head, "Because your trainers will try to break and mold you into a monster."_

_"What is your name?" Raki asked. "Teresa." Came the reply. Before he could ask anythig else, she opened the door leading out to the hall. "Oh, and Raki," She said, pausing a moment._

_"What?"_

_"Welcome to the Organization."_

Present day.

_"This is Flight K127-Ninener Niner Zero, requesting clearance to land." _The Leopard class helo banked twice, its pilot attempting to bring the craft level. The twelve soldier inside the craft cursing each other and the pilot as he tried to bring the unwieldy craft undercontrol. Raki adjusted his duffle bag and rifle-a K-32 assault rifle. Heavy, bulky, and powerful-desinged to tackle everything from humans to the strongest of yoma, though why they were assigned to kill humans, he'd never know. His armor was heavy-made from somekind of strange metal, it was desinged to protect the marines from harm.

He had graduated from basic training not 2 days ago after being turned into some kind of warrior-a powerful one apparently- and now was deployed in the field. Appearently there was a sudden call for reinforcements in the west-some woman-Riful of the West-had somehow gained control of a small army of yoma, and something called a voraicous eaters, and had been chewing up the marine divisions in the region. The pilot must of gotten a reply, because he felt the helecopter suddenly shift, its living cargo bumping into one another as they shifted on the benches.

"Okay, let's go you raw meat!" A man, one of the biggest, most musclar people Raki had ever seen was signlaing to them. Grabbing his bag and rifle, he jumped out of the craft, and looked around. His fellow recruits were distruibting to their units, more experienced marines directing them to their unit, and he had no idea where he was supposed to go, just to report to somebody named Miria. He felt a shove from behind him. "Well, what the hell are you waiting for marine? A welcoming comittee?" The big marine that had told them to get off their craft was towering over him. "Sorry sir, I'm just..." The marine shoved him again, hard. "Welcome to the West, now get your worthless ass moving!"

Wisely deciding not to retaliate, he quickly moved on, gathering up his things. 'Now,' He thought, 'Time to find this Miria...'

Captain Miria stood with the four soldiers of Alpha 1, all of them claymores. They were supposed to be getting a marine-a powerful one, from what she had heard. "So? When do you think this guy's gonna show up?" Helen said, her sholder length hair swaying slightly in the wind, stretching her arms and rolling her neck, "I mean, come on. Command really thinks we need a marine's help?" Miria shot her a look that silenced the outspoken claymore, but she shared her sentiments-command had said that this particular marine had somehow gained the power that ranked on the level of number 15. One of the other warriors, Deneve, having short cropped hair, simply shook her head, annoyance crossing her features. She one of the more level headed of the group, and then there was...Clare.

Although her face betrayed no emotion, the woman was whirlpool of passion-and she was a little too reckless for her own good. She alertly scanning the new troops being dropped in, as if though she was looking for someone. Miria remebered seeing one of the keepers, Rubel, she belived his name was, ocassionally speaking with her after assingments.

"Excuse me? Do you know where I can find a Captain Miria?" A man's voice came from behind her. She turned, and saw a young marine, rifle in one hand, dufflebag in the other. He was young, and had a scar across one eyebrow-perhaps the result of some kind of training accident-his hair was still brow, but eyes were silver in color. 'Could this be him?' She thought, looking him over. He was solidly built, a tad over six feet, and his face, fairly handsome, showed a bit of worry, "I've been trying to find her unit-K35's Alpha 1, but nobody seems to know where they're at?"

Helen grinned at her friends, and then at the man-"They're over on the other side of the base, last I checked, bout' ready to ship out"-Her grin became even wider-"But if you hurry you might be able to-hey!" Deneve smacked her on the back of the head, silencing her. Miria shook her head. "Somethings never change," She muttered, glancing at her comrade. She turned back to the marine. "This is K35 Alpha 1, I'm Miria, and this is-" The man dropped his gear and saluted her. "Uh...Private Raki, reporting for duty ma'am." He gathered his gear, fumbling to bring it under control-his rifle and bag kept trying to get away from him.

"Greaaat...they said we were getting a marine and we get a rookie...hey Clare, what do you think?" Helen tapped the other claymore on the sholder. She turned, looking at the new recruit. "He's green." Came the reply. He looked oddly familar. "Alright Private-let's get you sqaured away." Miria signaled for the rest of the unit to follow, Raki struggeling to bring his gear under control...

Chapter 2

Miria led her unit down a crowded-well street was too gracious of a name-it consisted of a narrow, dirt track, barely wide enough for the small staff vehicles to manuver through the crowds of soldiers and civilans who lived and worked on the base. As they walked along, one of said staff vehicles-a Mule, she belived it was called, a small compact, open topped vehicle that looked as if though someone had taken clay and had crudely cut and shaped into the pale resemblence of a proper car-suddenly swerved in.

They jumped out of the way, Helen and Deneve to the right-her and Clare to the left. The poor rookie had jumped out of the way-only to trip and land in a puddle of...something. Whatever it was, it left a greyish brown film on his armor as he gathered himself up. "Watch it you jackasses!" One of the passengers yelled-there were three occupants-two marines and what looked like and ordinary person, "You trying to run us over." Helen roared, making a few obscene gestures at the ocupants.

"Fuck you Claymore!" One of the marines yelled, returning the favor with a few vulgar signs of his own. The Mule sped through the track, Its marine occupants hurling insults at not only their group, but several other sqauds as well.

"Fuck you!"  
"You pile of-"

The insults were lost as more Leopard craft, the big, bulky craft attempting to mimic a bird in flight-and failing, were settling down near the landing zone. "Geez," Raki said, slinging his rifle over his sholder while trying clean-whatever it was off of himself, "What the hell's with those guys. Half the people I trained with weren't that bad." Miria shook her head. "Marines resent claymores, and claymores look down on their brothers in arms."

"Yea," Helen said, in answer to the looked that came across Raki's face, "That's gist of it-you get shitheads like that causing trouble, and then you get people like us who respond in kind." She turned and started walking...to where ever it was they were going. "Might as well try and get Yoma to stop treating humans as food."

"But why? Aren't we basically the same?" Deneve shook her head while Helen just laughed. Miria and Clare didn't respond. "Let's get moving-the sooner we get to the barracks, the sooner we can be ready to move out-all those leopards coming in can't be good."

xxxxxxxx

The barracks, as it turned out, was a simple, one story building-aluminum siding, utilarean grey roof. The inside wasn't much better- a single room, with eight steel framed beds, sarcely large enough to fit a human of average hight-they were all neatly made, the footlockers were standard issue, a drab, dull green, and hadn't looked like they had been used in months. "So, uh...where...uh...do I go and rack out?" Raki was eyeing his companions nerviously-obviously uncomfortable with the prospect of being the only male in a barracks full of females.

"Well, currently we're the only claymore unit that isn't in the field, so us four have basically had our choice of whatever bed we sleep in, not that we use them." Miria replied, a faint smile crossing her lips, "We've all racked out near the front, just incase we have to mobilize suddenly-I suggest you do the same." The marine nodded his reply as the other three claymores checked their lockers.

As he moved to the 3rd row, eying a bunk that would not be-at least to his eyes-too small for him, when a helmet landed on the bed suddenly. "Taken," Came Helen's voice, clearly amused with her clever joke. He moved to the bed across from it. A boot landed on that one. "Taken," Laughter this time entered her voice, followed by a response of "Knock it off!"

"Oh come on? The kid needs to be dicked wi-OW!" The sound of someone-he assumed it was either the captain or Deneve smaking helen on the back of the head. "Alright, alright..." The short haired claymore muttered, retreving her boot and helemet, "Jeez, can't anybody take a joke?" Raki set his bag and rifle on the bed, and proceeded to open it to go through its contents. Ammo, cleaning kit, pistol...extra bayonet, uniform, socks, soap...'The usual standard issue gear.' He thought disparingly. You'd think they'd give the troopers something a little more interestng. He'd remember hearing stories of marines who would find...rather unusal things in their field packs and bags. Such as a picture of...never mind.

"Hey kid, what you blushing for?" Helen teased in a mischevious tone, "You thinking dirty thoughts?" He jumped as she pressed against his back, wrapping her arms around him. "You know...I know a nice little spot we can go too." Her voice had gained a husky tone to it. "Get off me." Raki jerked out of the claymore's arms and glared at her. "Knock it off both of you." Miria stepped betweend them, putting just enough of an obstabcle so if either one swung at the other, she would be able to stop it. "You stop antagonzing people Helen," She snapped at the other claymore, "You've already got several marks against you, including a court-martial that almost cost you your rank."

Raki let out a sigh of reilef, until the captain rounded on him. "I don't want any trouble from you either, private." Her silver eyes seemed to bore in to him-he had the distinct impression of a butterfly being pinned to a wall under a magnifying glass. "Erm...yes ma'am...sorry ma'am." He imediately went back to sorting out his equipment into the footlocker. "Damn it...just when things were getting good." Helen went back to her rack in a huff, sprawling across it in a most undignified manner.

"You always have to be the troublemaker..." Deneve muttered to her friend, who grinned sheepishly at her. Miria shook her head and went to the door, paused, then turned around. "Alright, I'm going to go see what our new orders are-everyone stay put for now until I get back," She turned back the door.

"And don't go causing any trouble-that means you Helen." She then left.

"Man-she needs to relax." Helen rolled over, facing Deneve and Clare's own beds, "What's her deal anyways?" Clare shrugged-she had only been just assigned to K-35 6 months ago. Helen had been the first to speak with her when she arrived, teasing her to the point she had come close to striking the woman, while Deneve, despite her stoic appearance, often caused trouble with their fellow comerades-as for Miria-well she wasn't too sure about.

"Come to think of it," came Raki's voice, followed by a few rude words as the footlocker's lid slammed shut on his fingers-"Fucking lid." He stood, still wearing his armor-he had some how gotten the grey filth off for the most part. "I remeber hearing something about her-bout her and someone called Teresa-erm...what the hell was it..."

"Oh yea! That it." He snapped his fingers as it came to his memory. "During basic they taught us about the battles with the organzation. A battle occoured about 7 years ago, near some fronteer town in the north-Peita I belive it was called." He sat down on his bed, bringing his rifle into his lap. "From what I heard, it was a marvel of tactical ingenuity and brillant leadership. Appaerently the silver king Isley tried leading a spearhead of troops into the south-supposed to be a large contengent of what are called voriacous eater and yoma, though how in the hell he managed to control them I'll never know."

"The organization from what I heard pulled out all the stops, placing at least three contengents of marines-2000 men, and pulled the top 10 claymores from each region, including some fairly well known individuals-Quicksword Ilena, em...who else...oh-Phantom Miria"("No fucking way!" Helen inserted, but was quickly shushed by Deneve)"and Teresa of the Faint Smile(Clare perked up slightly at the mention of this). It was supposed to be a bloodbath-they caught Isely's troops in an ambush-apparently the battlelines were constantly shifting-nearly impossible where either side's lines began or ended. Took 6 days of fierce fighting, but they stopped it. But they lost a lot of good people-suposedly most of the claymores and almost all of the marines were wiped out." He paused a moment, and wondered-could his captian be the same person?

"Yeah, I heard something about that." Helen sat up, interupting his thoughts, "Guess the rookie is good for something-keeping up on current events." She jerked her head towards him and grinned at her two friends. "Anyways, might wanna enjoy the break while it lasts-knowing Miria she's gonna have our orders and we'll be having to haul to some shitfilled hole on the ass end of the content." She rolled over, attempting to sleep-or at least as close to sleep as a claymore could.

Raki looked two his other companions over-Deneve was still shaking her head at Helen's troublemaking, and the other one...Clare he thought her name was-her expression was void of any kind of emotion. Not even her eyes-a bright, metallic silver typical of claymores-held kind of emotion. He could've sworn he'd saw...something in her eyes-like recogntion-maybe not. They were just...cold.

It was kind of creepy.

Raki cleared his throat, looked away, then busied himself checking his rifle-safety was working right. Sights alingned...magzine full-he unloaded it-made sure the chamber was empty, then dry fired it. Hmm...the trigger was sticking.

xxxxxxxx

Clare had made note of the marine watching them, sizeing up each claymore. It wasn't an unusal occurance-both marines and claymores alike would size up new arrivials. He looked oddly familiar...

"Hey Clare! Whatcha thinking about?" Helen's voice brought her back. Her emotionless gaze shifted to Helen, who just simply smirked. "Heh heh, you're not scaring me." Clare's hand went for her claymore. "Don't," Came Deneve's voice, "The last thing we need is a fight in the barracks." They all knew the minuet a fight started Miria would have their asses in a sling.

She turned, looking out the window-the sky had become overcast, and a steady rain had began to pour down upon the base.

xxxxxxx

Miria shook her head as she watched several stretchers bearing wounded marines and civilans made their way to the infirmary. It wasn't an unusual sight-most marines couldn't regenerate as well as normal warriors, and often many died before they could receive treatment-and those civilans unfortunate enought to be caught in the crossfire. Judging by the look of it, there was at least fifty wounded marines and twice as many civlians. Normally the organization wouldn't give a damn about the innnocents who were injured or killed in the fighting-but it looked good in whatever papers the local humans decided to publish-political capital, so to speak.

'And they are not above exploiting it for their own ends.' She thought bitterly-they had recently taken to actively trying to recruit young boys and men to the marine ranks-showng posters of marines giving out aid to the needy or groups of small children simply surrounding small groups of soldiers, seemingly in adoration. Others were simply drawn up, idolizing their way of life. What they didn't say was how some marines broke during training, or about the massacares they had been responsible for.

No, she had seen just what war did to these men-seeing friends and brother slaughtered-seen the kind of atrocities they committed. She couldn't sympathize with them-that young recuirt they had gotten-he most likely end the same way, unless he could somehow keep his mind intact.

Shaking her head one last time, she continued on her way, the once clear sky becoming overcast, the steady drizzle of rain making it seem as if though the sky itself was crying for the wounded and dead that were still being brought in.

xxxxxxx

Miria stepped into the command post-an inn that had been commandeered for military purposes. A pair of marines were standing guard as what she had assumed ot be the inkeeper's office, bored expressions on their faces. They both had shotguns-wonderful. They were perfect for such close confines, able to stop a charging yoma at close range-or a claymore. She stepped forward, and both marines immedately came to attention. "State your business!" One of them snapped, chambering around. The other trained his gun on her. Of course they were making a show of it-many of them disliked, even outright hated claymores, yet many of the were dependant on their support when an awakened being-known to them and outsiders as voriacous eaters-attacked. No matter how strong they were or how much firepower they had-it almost always ended badly for them.

"Number 6, Captain Miria, reporting for operational orders." She stated in a calm, even tone. You had to have patience with the marine infanty-she was tempted to lash back, but simply being calm, not to mention the mention of her number-gave them a reason to back off a little bit. "Sorry ma'am-I had no idea who you were..." The two troopers lowered their weapons, looking rather foolish, "Go right on in ma'am." The marine who had stopped her opened the door.

She brushed past them with out saying a word, and came to a stop infront of a large, well worn wooden desk-the office was littered with tactical maps pinned to walls, portable backboards-and the desk with cluttered with reports and directives. A man in black, his face hidden by heavy cloth wrapped around his face, was busy studying a report-his green eyes scanning every inch of the paper. "Number 6 Miria reporting for orders sir." She saluted him, then stood at attiention.

"Ah, number 6," He said without looking up, his voice was an odd sounding thing-a low, nasily barritone, "I heard you just got a new recriut assigned to you-fresh out of the academy. Marine type..." She nodded, not sure what he was getting at. "From what I hear, he's a strong-Teresa had a hand in making him." Looking up at her, the man frowned, "I'm trying to find a suitable assignment for you, as at the moment we are currently short handed-all claymores except K35's First and Fifth squads are are active deployment." He looked up at her-"You do command fifth squad? Correct?" She nodded.

"Very good-now as are probably already aware-we've had a large number of wounded personell and civilians arrive on base." He stood, pulled one of the maps off the wall and cleared just enough space to set the map itsself down. "This is our current location-the town of Argus-as you can see this town is one of the few places on the very edge of our lines here that has been able to withstand the Abyssal's onslaught-but as it stands, our marine forces are badly depleted in the west."

So I am ording you and your team to reinforce the nearby town of Lartec-we've got a marine unit there that's barely holding on, and I'm certain your presence would be most welcome." 'Right on the end of a bayonet." Miria added mentally. "Yes sir. Understood sir."

"I'll have a helo ready in five minutes-what are you waiting for Captain?"

'For hell to freeze over.' She slatued and left the office. They were being sent into an extermely dangerous situation, and they had a rookie with them...and there was no mention of any other reinforcements...

'Just like fucking Pieta.' She thought bitterly, doing her best to remain calm and controlled despite the rising anger she felt, 'They sent a bunch of boys fresh out of the academy to die...'

xxxxxxxx

Raki had just finished checking over his rifle-the trigger wasn't sticking anymore. And now he had mounted a bayonet on the thing as long as his arm. He slung the bandoleer of ammo over his armor, strapped on the big, heavy pistol that was assigned to every marine-something called a Fletchette gun-fired big, heavy fletchettes that went boom when they hit something, and finally, donned the harnes that his were in grenades and strapped his spare knife to his boot.

He had just finished when Maria stormed in. "Alright, listen up!" She barked, removing the silvery, open-faced helmet that was standard to all claymores-unlike the bulky, full-blown helmets the marines wore-their helmets provided a gas-mask, night vision, and tactical displays...not to mention restricting your prefrial vision. Guess being a claymore had its perks...

"We've gotten orders to renefores a marine unit curretly fighting at Lartec-(this brought a snort from Helen followed by "Fuckin' marines, we always gotta pick up the shit they can't get themselves.")"-their in bad shape-we will recieve further orders upon arrival. Leopard leaves in five minuets-get moving." The claymores and their marine compatriot began to scramble to gather their gear, "Oh and Private?" She paused for a moment, regaurding the marine as he donned his helmet. "Ma'am?"

"I expect you to give one-hundred-and ten percent." Miria continued onwards, leaving the marine somewhat confused as to what she meant. He felt somebody clap him on the back, followed by Helen's rather dark chuckle. "Welcome to Alpha 1 buddy," She said, leading the new comer along, "Looks like Miria's got her panties in a bunch, and has already singled you out...you're fucked." The squad made its way towards the chopper, and the craft took off.

xxxxxxx

Chapter 3

As they reached the helo-one of the many Leopard class helecopters the organization used to transport their marines, Raki noted it was being outfitted with support weapons-rockets, door guns, in addition to the two rotary cannons mounted in the fusalage. Oh yeah...they were definately headed for a shit fight. A pair of marines were busy loading several large rockets into the launcher-he caught what must of been the end of their conversation:

"...the hell are we outfitting our leopard for gunship duty-and on such short notice too? Ready in five minuets my ass-do they not want the thing's to fire properly?" One of marines grunted as they finished loading each of the rockets. "Well-unngh-from what I hear this helo's bound for Lartec-supposed to be a major FUBAR going on there." The other one had grabbed a large case of ammo for the two door guns, "Well just think-at least we're getting paid over time for this..."

"Bullshit." The other replied matter-of-factly, "We don't get paid over-oh shit." He pointed over his friend's shoulder. He turned around to see four claymores and a marine standing behind him. "Oh...great." The marine with the ammo case saluted Miria. "You the assholes responsible for the short order?" His friend snarled, grabbing a second case of ammo forcfully and clambering up into one of the gunners seats. He jerked the ammo case open and began to load the gun angerly.

"Knock it off Brent." The other marine looked at her with sympathetic eyes. "Don't mind the ass over there." He said, nodding his head to indicate his irritated friend. "He's just in a bad mood about having to get read on such short notice-we had a long flight from the east-round trip." He clambered up into his own gunners seat, loading it with care. "Hey Brent." He said in a calm tone, calibrating his sights and making sure that the ammo feed was clear of any obstruction.

"What?"  
"You keep loading that gun the way you are and it'll jam again."  
"Don't tell me how to load the fucking door guns-I know how to do it."  
"I just don't want a repeat from last week."

The second marine looked up from his work and studied his friend-like all marines his face was hidden by his helmet, though he could imagine the scowl on his face. He sighed, "Princess here had his panties in a bunch couple weeks ago and it nearly got our passengers killed-he was too hot-headed to make sure is gun was loaded properly and it jammed on the first round." He sighed as he went back to his gun, "Took him a good two minuets to get it unjammed-two minuets and and a wounded marine."

"Yeah-we killed the fucking eater attacking us." Brent looked up from his gun, probably stareing daggers at them-"And now we gotta go into a hotzone carrying a bunch of claymores cause the boys there can't hold the line without needing to hold on to some bitch's apron strings." Helen laughed at that. "If it wasn't for us, you boys wouldn't even be around." She said, clambering into the transport. She unlimbered her clamore and set it in her lap as she sat, "So why don't you just be nice to us and we'll return the favor."

The marine muttered something...unfit for any civilized company, involving something to be done to Helen that involved passion or at least desire, but it wasn't meant that way. Helen laughed again-"I might take you up on that offer, but then again I'm not sure if I want to climb on top of a hill-I prefer moutains if you know what I mean..." Brent began to sputter indignantly as his friend chuckled at the bit of humor the claymore had at his expense. Deneve snorted at her friends respons as the rest of the sqaud clambered in. "That's probably why he's so cranky," She said in a soft, pleasant tone, "The last girl he laid with didn't appriciate reaching the top of the hill so soon, and then spread the word, so no girl will be willing to have him."

The other marine howled with laughter as Miria, Clare, and Raki clambered into the chopper. "You...bitches." The poor marine was lost for words, "I'll...I'll give you a mountain to climb." Helen chuckled again-"No thanks-we've had better offers." The soldier continued sputtering, at a loss for words-his compatriot was now gasping for air. Raki was trying hard to keep a straight face-and loosing. Thank god for his helmet, as he broke into a big grin. "Alright-that's enough!" Miria snapped, unlimbering her claymore and propping it against the wall behind her, "We've got a job to do and don't need you all stirring up this kind of trouble." She sat down beside her weapon, and crossed her legs. "You," She snapped at the marine struggling to catch his breath, "Where is the pilot?"

The marines was trying to gain some kind of composure after his bout of laugher-and loosing. "S-Sorry ma'am," He said, checking his gun, "She-" He snickered, suddenly finding the gun sights _very _interesting, "She'll be along in a moment." They all looked to one another-"She?" Raki asked, "I thought marines were all male?" Helen shrugged, then put both her hands behind her back and leaned backwards, closing her eyes. "It's probably a civilan-the organization occasionally hires outsiders when its a little short handed, although its extremely rare." Deneve replied, sitting beiside Helen. "Piloting a military craft?" Came the reply. Clare finally entered the craft, that strange emotionless expression still in place. "Perhaps..."

Someone else then clambered into the transport compartment-a young woman, about the same hight as Clare-her hair chestnut brown, her uniform, meant for male warriors, had been refitted for female dimensions. What was most startling was the fact she had silver eyes like a claymore. 'A female marine?' Raki wondered-he must have said it aloud, because the brunette bristled-"No," She snapped, "I'm a claymore." She guestured to the sword on her back-it had been shortened to half the length of a normal sword, and the handle was a hand and a half rather than a full hilt-she also had a light-wieght machine pistol strapped in a holster in her hip.

"Since when do claymores pilot gunships?" Raki asked, "And who ever heard of a claymore carrying a gun?" The pilot shook her head, and looked at Miria. "No 47, Clarice, eastern unit, currently been reassigned to western unit." She saluted, not taking her eyes off Raki, "I'll be acting as your transport and gunship support for the durataion of your deployment in the west." Miria nodded, "Alright then Clarice, get us airborne-we shoudl've been in the air five minuets ago." Clarice nodded, and with one last glare at Raki, she went to the cockpit. "This is flight L7083 to control tower, requesting clearance for take off."

"_Flight L7083, you are cleared for takeoff-be advised-we've gotten reports that their airborne yoma harassing our birds in the area. Proceed with caution." _Clarice nodded to one of the gunners. "Roger that, will proceed with caution."

_"Happy trails L7083, and best of luck."_ The sound of the engines whining and the Leopard began to shake alittle bit. "Great," Deneve said, bracing herself, "It couldn't be a smooth takeoff." Helen chuckled, leaning forward and looking her friend in the eye-"Still get airsick?" Deneve closed her eyes, trying to ignore the churining in her stomach as the helecopter took off. "How bout that?" Came one of the gunners voices, warm humor affecting his voice, "A Claymore who gets airsick?" Deneve leaned against back of the seat, too nausiated to respond.

Raki didn't blame her-his gut knotted every time he got into one of them-leopard were said to have a notorious reputation for being easy targets-the birds handled more like housebricks, especially when trying to evade attack-thus giving them the nickname-flying coffins. Add that to a number of mechanical falures, including falure of armorments and hydrolics, and you had one notoriously untrustworthy aircraft. Most marines wouldn't ride in one for a bet-but they were one of the main means of transportation for the organization.

The rain beat hard against the gunship, the rotors causing the rain to stirrup a fine mist around the craft. "Great," One of the gunners muttered darkly, glaring at the ceiling and presumably the rotors themselves, "Fucking rain was bad enough, but now we've gotta contend with this shit-visabilty's bad enough as it." His friend grunted in agreement, and then toggled his helmet radio. "Uh, boss, this shit's fucking with our visibilty-only limited to about maybe 30 meters or so-" Upon hearing that, Raki glanced out the helocopter-he was right-though they were flying low-he could barely make out the ground. "Okay-I'll try to get us above this muck." He felt the craft pitch upwards and heard the engine-suddenly the bird pitched foward slightly.

"It's no good," Clarice said, leveling the leopard out, "We're too damn heavy to climb effectively-the engine's starting to overheat and could freeze up on us." One of the gunners cursed over the comm. "Great, It's just one fucking thing after another."

"Just try to stay sharp guys-we've got reports of flyers in the area." Clarice's voice was calm but had a slight edge to it. Raki wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was-the leopard was moving awfully slow-a slow, big, heavy target. Subconciously, he began to reach for his rifle, pulling back the charging handle to chamber a round. "Nervous?" Helen asked, a smile crossing her face-he shook his head. She just chuckled, leaning back on her seat-if it could be called that-both seats were just a couple of benches.

"How long until we reach Lartec?" Miria asked over the comm. "About three hours-provided we don't run into any trouble." The claymore pilot responded, not bothering to look back into the passenger compartment. "So what's so special about Lartec that we had to leave in such a hurry?" Raki wondered aloud. "Lartec is one of the few places that's been able to withstand Riful's assault-it's got a strong defensive position- it's situatuated on a large hill-it's also surrounded by dense forest-difficult to get a large army in-also difficult for the organization to bring troops in to protect it-that's why we're flying in by air." Miria said, shifting in her seat to a more comfortable positon.

"It also serves as a central hub for the West's railway transportation-there are 8 major lines going through it-as well as serving as one of the central manufacturing centers for our Leopard class gunships." She finished, looking Raki full in the face-"So it's understandable why the organiztion wants to protect it-if we loose control of the air-we can still move troops in by rail-and quite possibly use it as a staging area."

"That's probably why we've had our gunships attacked when their in the area-that Riful doesn't want us to be able to use the rail lines-not to mention it'll be a whole lot harder for us to get parts for our birds in the west." Clarice finished in a matter-of-fact tone. "That's something I could live with," Raki muttered under his breath, "Maybe the organization will have the decency to build a craft that didn't crap out on you every five minuets." This drew a "Hey!" From Clarice and a few chuckles from the marines-"I hear that!" One of them said.

"You are more than welcome to get off my bird at any time marine." Clarice growled threateningly, "Feel free to jump." Raki immediatly shut up, suddenly more concerned about their pilot trying to make him fly than the craft itsself suddenly giving out on them.

xxxxxxx

A pair of golden eyes looked up towards the sky upon hear a familar _Whup! Whup!_ sound-one of those flying machines. The yoma smiled, then let loose a roar-other golden eyes began to look to the sky-there it was-a flying machine.

Grinning about the potential slaughter and a chance at a feast of guts, the creatures spread their wings and began to take flight...

xxxxxxx

"We're about an hour and a half out from Lartec." Clarie reported, checking the chronometer on her HUD, "Haven't encountered any flyers yet, but I want you gunners to keep your heads on a swivel-no telling what's going to happen..." She sounded nervous-and understandably so-they moving a little too slow for anyone's liking, and there were flying yoma about-slow moving, trouble prone gunship and flyers-not a good combo.

"Man, I'd better not see one of those fucking flyers," One of the gunners-Brent-growled, "They go anywhere near me and my door gun-they'll be in for a short, exciting life." The other marine chuckled, "Provided the gun doesn't jam again." Brent muttered somthing along the lines of shut up. "Knock it off both of you." Clarice snapped, the bird shaking as she attempted to get it level again, "I can't be babysitting you and keeping this damn thin level at the same time." The gunners immedately quieted down and began scanning sky-the rain wasn't making things easy on them. "What the hell?!" A large black blur suddenly raced past the left hand side of the craft. "I got contact-3 o'clock-don't know what the hell it was. Stay sharp Micael."

"Roger that!" Came the reply, followed the right-hand gunner cocking his gun-both of them scanned the horizon-watching for any signs of movement-anything out of the ordinary-a job made doubly difficult by the storm. Raki suddenly got the feeling he was sitting in his coffin. He checked his rifle again-looked up-and was treated the sight of a huge yoma, racing at their craft at full speed-"Oh shit!" Brent began to fire his cannon, the bullets shredding through its thick hide-purplish blood spraying through the air, steam forming around the barrels. Raki started to raise his weapon-until Miria stopped him. "Conserve your ammo-the gunners can handle it."

"Fucking contact at 4 o'clock." Brent shouted as the creature went down-blood trailing through the air as it plummeted towards the earth. Suddenly: "Contact-7 o'clock, wait-ah shit." The right-hand gunner begant to fire, spraying rounds in the air as three more yoma replaced the one Brent shot down. "Multiple contacts, bearing 7 o'clock, moving fast."

"Son of bitch-I got contacts coming in on the left at 3, 1 and 5 o'clock." Brent was firing his gun, shells ripping through the air and burying themselves in the flesh of their targets. Raki's stomach dropped as he saw what was headed towards them-at least two dozen yoma. "Shit! There's too many!" The gunners were desperatly trying to hold the yoma, yelling obsecenities and spraying wildly around. Raki raised his own rifle, plastering a yoma as it made its way into the passenger compartment. "Shit!" Helen jumped up and grabbed her sword-the tight confines of the compartment would make it nearly impossible to use it properly.

Suddenly, there was a strong impact followed by the sound of rending metal. "We're hit! Tail rotor's out." The craft began to spin out of control, "Mayday! Mayday!" The pilot shouted over her radio, "This is Leopard craft L7083-we have taken a direct hit to our tail and are going down-coodinates 137,382-to any one hearing this message we are going down!" Clarice was trying to wrestle the craft under control-the ground was getting uncofortably closer and closer...

The leopard Impacted, sliding along the ground and uprooting several trees and shredding its propellors in the process. It slammed into several large bolders, and Raki was violently thrown from the passenger compartmant-he hit the hard earth several times-the last thing he remebered seeing was a large clump of bushes-

Then darkness enveloped him...


	2. Act 2-Crash Landing

Here's act 2 of fire and fury-sorry for the long wait-and no-I don't own claymore so don't even ask.

Act 2-Crash Landing

Chapter 4

Location-Lartec Military Command

"Mayday! Mayday! This is leopard craft L7083-we have taken a direct hit to our tail and are going down-coordinates 137,382-to anyone hearing this message we are going down!" The message was suddenly punctuated by a series of loud impacts of metal hitting stone, metal bending and twisting, and finally the sound of the wreckage settling down. The technician working the console jerked back, wincing as he ripped the headphones off his head as the noise overwhelmed him. Shaking his head, he signaled to the supervising officer.

"Sir! One of our birds just went down-don't recognize the pilot though-some woman." The CO nodded, "Can you bring it up on the overhead?" "Yessir!" The tech flipped a few switches and the transmission replayed itself. "Son of a bitch." His cursing caught the tech off guard-his CO normally was a lot cooler-but this was different-they had lost a dozen inbound craft in the past week-more than that over the last couple of months. Dispite their arsenal and armor, the damn things were dropping like flies at a rate no army could afford.

"Do we have a patrol down there?" The tech pulled a clipboard out and began to flip through the papers. "Yeah-scout patrol, and a few Instagators backing up a couple marine units." The officer nodded. "Alright, let's get to it and see if anyone survived before the yoma get to them." The tech flipped toggle his comm link. "To any available patrols, we have downed leopard helo at coordinates 137 north, 382 east. Orders are to check for possible survivors." He didnt let on the fact that the odds of surviving a leopard crash, espcially when being attacked by yoma were slim to none. Several replies came-two separate patrols were moving out-one was light scout unit that had been operating for several days in the field-the other was unit bandit hunting-it seemed that the number of them had gone up since the shit started flying.

xxxxxxx

-Clare-

The first thing she was aware of was the sensation of floating underwater-it was cold...why was it so cold. 'Wait a minuet,' she thought-the claymore opened her mouth to draw breath-and suddenly searing cold filled her lungs as she sucked in a lungful of water.

"GAH!" Clare burst up from the stream she had found herself lying face down in, struggling to the shore, her lungs aching from the cold as she coughed up the water she had swallowed. Her whole body was sore, and was covered in bruises and scratches. Nothing she couldn't handle though...

The rain was still coming down, washing some of the mud that had collected on her. She looked towards the lepard-the majority of the hull had remained intact, although judging by the way it was bent inwards, it would never fly again. The sound of coughing next to her made the claymore jump. "Owww...what the fuck?" Helen rubbed her head, a thin trickle of blood trailing down her face. She looked at Clare, then to herself. "Well, at least we're in one piece." She staggered to her feet, then helped clare up, "Man...did someone get the name of that driver?" The rowdy warrior shook her head, clearly trying to get rid of the aftereffects of the crash.

Turning around, they surveyed the crash site. "Shit," Helen muttered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, "Alright, guess we'd better see if anyone else made it." She made a move-and cursed again. "I don't have my sword." Clare noted that she didn't have a weapon either. "Alright, keep an eye out for anything we can use." She nodded, and the two began to search the wreckage. "Hey! Found something!" A marines helmet, soaked in blood. Helen showed her discovery to her fellow claymore, "Looks like one of them bought the farm."

"Know who it is?" Helen shook her head, and then began to inspect it-bending to pick it up. Then-plop! The both jumped at the sound as a head hit the ground. The marine's face was in a grimace of pain-it wasn't Raki's though-must belong to one of the two gunners. "Great-so one dead, 5 missing." Helen had pointed out the obvious-now then...all that remained was to find them.

xxxxxx

-Miria-

Miria groaned as she picked herself off the floor-and hit her head, the sound of her head hitting metal sounding oddly thought the compartment. She jumped when a flash of light illuminated her surroundings with an audible Pop-and cursed as she hit her head again-then she realized something-the hull of the the leopard was bent inwards. Then shuddered when she realized just how close she had been to becoming claymore al blut. She shook her head, and began to slowly ease her way out.

As she slid out, Miria jumped and reflexively went for a weapon as she felt something grab her ankle. "Hey," A man's voice said, "Now that's not the way to greet a friend, is it?" It was one of the gunners. "Casualty report?" She said, picking her self up as he handed her a shotgun. "Can't say-Brent's dead, but Clarice is missing, and no sign of the rest of your squad." She nodded, and then looked at the weapon he had handed her. "What about you-you hurt?" She heard the marine suck in a breath-and noticed he was favoring one leg heavily. "Little bit-but I'll live; think I twisted my ankle when we hit the ground." She made a note of the faint trickle of blood running down the left leg of his armor. Twisted ankle-right.

"Have you seen my sword?" She asked as she checked the gun. Fully loaded-good. "Nope," he replied, surveying their surroundings, "If its here, then it must of joined poor Brent in the metal sandwich." He jerked his head towards the twisted ruin that was the Leopard. Shaking her head, the captain cocked her weapon-

And realized the marine hadn't given her any additional ammo. "Do you have any extra shells for this?" She asked, indication the gun. "Oh-yeah." He tossed her a bandoleer. "What I could salvage from one of the lockers." He himself had a smaller version of the marine's standard issue rifle. "Left a couple of fletchett guns and some ammo if anyone else survived-normally we have two separate armories on the craft-one on each side-but I can't get to the other one" Well that was obvious.

"Alright, let's go see if we can't find the others." The gunner nodded and both began to search for their missing comrades...

xxxxx

-Clare, Helen-

"Well son of a bitch..." Helen pointed at the two figures who were coming around from the other side of the craft, relief flooding her voice-it was her captain and one of the marines-not the kid, but one of the gunners-he was limping badly, not a good sign. "They did make it." Miria nodded to them-making note of their appearances-Aside from a few tears in her uniform and the fact she was wet-Clare looked fine. Helen on the other hand had a thin trail of blood on her head-and yet despite that was none the worse for wear. "Either one of you armed?" They shook their heads. "There's a couple of Flechett guns in the locker on the other side-we can't get to other locker." They nodded, and Miria watched as they disappeared to the other side-she had made a note of the blood running down the side of Helen's head, and numerous smaller amounts on Clare-looks like they were relatively unharmed. 'Still no sign of our pilot, Deneve, or our marine.' She thought as the pair returned with the heavy pistols, 'half our group is gone.'

"Alright, we have one dead, and three missing." She told them, looking each one of them in the eye, "The others may be dead, or worse..." They could've been captured-there had been reports of marines and claymores being taken prisoner and dragged off to fates unknown. "Our first priority is to try and find them-failing that we need to make contact with command." The marine shook his head-"Tried that, but the radio's fried, and our helmet coms are only good for short range." Miria nodded-then checked her own helmet. "Alright, make sure your radios are on and have full magazines in those weapons." she turned and signaled them to follow, and then gave the order:

"Move out!"

xxxxxx

Chapter 5

"Anyone besides me notice that the yoma that hit us didn't follow the Leopard down?" Helen asked in a casual, off-hand voice. "You noticed that too?" The gunner seemed just a little nervous by the claymore's statement of the all-too-obvious fact that the yoma hadn't attacked them when they crashed-something they all had noticed. "You don't think that-"

"Don't even say it." Helen snapped at the marine before he could finish his sentence-it was clear that he was about to say what they were all thinking-that the others had been grabbed. "I'm sure their just fine-now let's keep moving-we're bound to run into a patrol or something..." Miria said in an attempt to try and keep morale up, but Helen and the gunner had made a very good point-they hadn't been attacked when the hit the ground-which meant either the yoma were too stupid to investigate the potential source of food-or...

Or they had been called off. Either way-this did not bode well for them. 'And I have a feeling its going to get worse from here.' She thought, a wave of apprehension hitting her as she led her team through the forest.

xxxxx

-Deneve-

Pain lanced through her abdomen as she pulled the huge sword out of her gut. 'Damn you Helen, and damn me for not being fast enough.' The claymore thought bitterly as her friend's sword hit the ground with an audible clang. She had her own weapon-being lucky enough to still have it in its sheath. 'Now just where am I?' Scanning her surroundings, Deneve reached out with her yoki, trying to pinpoint any possible threats.

Nothing. Well, it could have been worse...wait? What was that? She quickly turned at the sound of leaves rustling-were those groans-no, retching sounds? Cautiously, she began to approach the source of the noise-shifting so that way she could leap backwards into a fighting stance at a moment's notice. It sounded like whoever or whatever it was was trying to get to their feet. 'Well then...' The claymore lept forward, sword held upwards in a ready stance-and nearly took a marine's head off. "Wait! Don't!" He cried, holding his left arm up like a shield. She recognized that voice...

Having no time to pull back the strike-she twisted, burying the blade in a tree sending bits of wood and bark flying. "What the fuck?!" Raki cried out, his voice filled with fear, scrambling to his feet-and failing-slipping in a puddle of sick he must have put there seconds before. He landed in a heap, and the retched-again. Deneve shook her head as she pulled her blade out with a grunt. 'So he survived-that's good; at least now I have some back up, even if it is a marine.'

"So-did anyone else make it?" She asked, her face and voice filled with concern as the young marine continued heaving.

xxxxx

-Raki-

Spitting up his breakfast again for the fourth time in the past five minuets, he look up at the claymore. "What?" He asked confusedly, trying to make sense of whatever she had said as the nausea from what impacts he had taken when he had been flung from the helicopter threatened to overwhelm him again. "I said: Did anyone else make it?"

"Don't know-one minuet we're headed down," He said in a shakey voice, trying to clean some of the vomit off of himself, "Next thing I know I wake up puking my guts out and trying to keep from getting sliced open by a...erm-don't think trigger happy quite fits for you." He looked up at her and then collected his helmet. "Gotta find my rifle...need my rifle." he muttered, attempting to stand again with a growl as he forced as fresh waves of nausea hammered him mercilessly.

Fumbling around the bushes, he swayed slightly as he moved amoung them. Shit-he was seeing double. 'Where the fuck is my weapon?' One thing that was pounded into their head during basic was that a marine was useless without his rifle. "Raki!" He heard the claymore snap, then a hand clasped his should and spun him around. "We don't have time for this." Deneve stated in a stern voice, looking him in the eye, "You should've kept a firmer hold on your weapon to begin with."

'I'd like to see you keep better hold of your weapon when you get flung out of a helicopter when it crashes.' He thought bitterly as she pressed a huge broadsword into his hands. "It's Helen's." She stated-well no shit. The marking was clear as day. "Right now that weapon is your best bet-now come on-we've got work to do."

Well, at least a sword didn't run out of bullets.

xxxxxx

Chapter 6

-Miria, Clare, Helen-

They had been walking for what had felt like an eternity, but was probably no more than a few hours-Helen's constant grumbling and the steady drizzle that seemed to be getting stronger didn't help matters any. "Man, cannot belive we're marching through this shit-slogging in the mud," The rowdy warrior growled for what must have been the millionth time as the moved up a particularly steep-and wouldn't you know it-muddy hill. The trees on said hill looked as if though someone had taken a hatchet and tried to give them a trim-and failed misrably.

"Look at that." The marine grunted, pointing towards a small cluster of trees infront them-they had been sheared off almost halfway-bits of wood and branches lay around it-and more importantly, the purplish blood that stained the ground. The occasional body part could be found here and ther, but there was no mistaking it-a fight had taken place-and only recently. "Looks like a Starburst round." Helen shuddered and even Clare, the ever stoic-faced warrior, couldn't hide the unease on her face-Starburst rounds when they exploded peppered the area with smaller bomblets about the size of a teenager's fist, but had enough explosive in them to take someone's entire leg off. They had a nasty reputation for leaving a few 'surprises' laying around for some unsuspecting fool to step on.

"Alright, keep it tight people," Miria barked at them, "And watch where you step." That last part wasn't needed-even Helen, who had been endlessly complaining about the long, slow journey they had been undergoing to regroup with their unit, was now moving as slowly as possible, sweeping the ground in front of her, looking for the little steel balls of death that waited silently for its first victim.

"Shit-first we crash, then we find a battlefield, then we end up in a minefield," The marine sighed as he panned his rifle around, "Just another day on the job I guess-sure hope the others are having an easier time than we are-if their still alive."

They all shared his same sentiment...

xxxxxxx

-Raki, Deneve-

"So, where exactly are we going?" Raki asked, shifting his borrowed claymore from one hand to the next as they moved quickly but cautiously through the dense brush of the forest. "We're going to see if anyone's still alive-if not, we head to Lartec." The way she had so casually stated it...Raki got the distinct impression that she was expecting to find survivors-but the odds of surviving a crash in a gunship armed to the teeth...

Hell, they'd been lucky to survive being flung out of the craft-most people would've left a crater. "You sure-" He suddenly had shivers up his spine as he heard an all-too familiar sound-the unmistakable, rapid rat-tat of a submachine gun. "Shit," Denveve snarled, suddenly running full tilt, "It must be a marine sqaud-I can sense their yoki nearby." Raki couldn't sense anything-but then again-marines weren't trained to read yoki auras.

xxxxxxx

"Hold em off! Just hold em off!" Sargent Haldain had never in his life had a mission go so badly-the job had been simple-gather intel on enemy activity in the area-then their orders had been changed-find a downed Leopard. Simple enough-until a horde of flying yoma had descended around the area-apparently trying to find the same craft they were.

Add on to that the half-dead claymore they found and the other fact his sqaud was underarmed for this kind of short notice mission, well...they all had to die someday. "Beckhart! Harrison! Take up positions the right!" He barked, attempting to bring some semblance of order to his men, "Morzek! Randall! Positions on the left!" He turned to their medic-he was trying to stabilize the claymore they had found. "How's our patient," The sergeant shouted, his voice barely audible over the sounds of combat. "Not good," Came the barely heard reply, "Her BP is 30 under 80, she has multiple lacerations and puncture wounds and has lost a lot of blood." What the hell...

"I thought she was a Claymore!? They heal better than we do." He turned and blasted a yoma with his shotgun, a large hole, big enough for him to stick his fist through appeared in its chest as the force of the shot knocked it backwards. "Not this one-see the color in her hair?" He pointed to the wavy brown hair she had, "Means the yoma flesh didn't take hold completely."

"So she's underpowered...means she's about as helpless as a marine." He felt sorry for her, he really did-she had been regulated to the ranks of the marines after it was found she wasn't up to snuff by the Org's standards. "Get her stabilized as best you can." He said almost gently, putting another shell in a yoma that got too close, "We've got to-" A scream erupted from his left-shrill and agonized-he realized then one of his men had gone down-a yoma tearing through the insulating metal cocoon they wore and reaching the soft flesh beneath. It let loose a scream of triumph and began to set upon its prize-only to be abruptly cut off by a burst of rifle fire.

His buddy began yelling obscenities, spraying rifle rounds left and right-all discipline gone into from his mind-driven by the burning desire to avenge his comrade. "Randall-Get back on the line!" The sergeant roared-taking down another yoma as it bounded through their now-exposed left flank. "Randall! Get your fucking suicidal ass back on the-!" Haldain's shout ended in a gurgle as another yoma took advantage of his momentary distraction. "Fuck!" The medic began to panic, frantically ripping his pistol from its holster and emptying it as fast as he could.

Randall himself hadn't fared much better than his CO-his anger had gotten the better of him, clouding his judgement and overriding his training. He had gone too far away from his squad and had wasted the majority of his ammo in anger. He turned to blast another yoma after finishing off one with a shot to the head. The marine trained his weapon on his target, tightening his finger on the trigger as it lept up-waiting for that sweet moment-the top of its arc where the rounds would have the most effect-but not too close that it landed on him.

Click!

"Ah shi-" His screams filled the air as the yoma knocked him to the ground and proceeded to rip him limb from limb-silenced only when another descended upon him and swung a claw at his throat.

"Sergeant's down! Sergeant's down-Fall in!" The two soldiers began to instinctively fall back to the medic who had dispatched his attacker and was now fumbling-trying to get his weapon reloaded as quickly as possible, cursing as he dropped the magazine. "We ain't gonna make it!" One of them cried as he let loose a burst from the submachinegun in his hands, the rounds causing a yoma's head to come apart. He dove for cover behind a rock as a dozen long, well, tendrils lanced past him, embedding themselves in a tree and sending chips of wood flying-he heard the roars of frustration and anger, and smiled beneath his helmet.

The yoma began to back off. "Shit-we drove em off!" The medic breathed a sigh of relief, and holstered his gun. "I don't know about that." The two soldiers glanced at one another, then their late sergeant and at what was left of Randal. Suddenly, a commotion erupted in the nearby brush, and something landed with an audible wet plopping sound, bouncing several times and landing near the crouched medic. "What the-?" It was a head-or more accurately-a half a head-it was neatly severed...and judging by the sounds, all hell was breaking loose.

Raki cursed as he swung the heavy blade too high, and instead of hitting his target-a yoma's neck-he ended up slicing through its skull. 'Well, same results..' He thought as he swung the blade a second time, slicing another one diagonally, blood blossoming across its chest. The damn sword was heavy-heavier than the rifle he usually carried, and his arms ached.

How in the hell did the claymores use the fucking things?

"Have you ever used a sword before?" Deneve asked as she finished off another opponent, cutting it down the middle and letting both halves fall the to the ground. She was so damned casual about this. Raki ignored her and turned to meet his next attacker-or would have, if hadn't seen the remaining monster running away. Drawing his pistol, he fired a few parting shots, catching one squarely between the shoulder blades, but the others missed.

"Well, got one of em." He muttered. Holstering the gun, the young marine turned to the thick foliage they had come from. There was more movement. "Don't shoot!" Came a shout, and a lone marine came through, "Friendlies coming in!" He kept his hands in the air, his body language tense-and immediately relaxed when he saw who he was dealing with. "Man are you a sight for sore eyes!" His tone suggested a mixture of relief, happiness, and some other unidentified emotion. "Who would've thought that a claymore and a marine would be this far out."

"Our leopard crashed." The marine nodded at Deneve's words, and checked the submachingun at his belt, as if though the claymore's words were all he needed to hear. "Well, come on-I'll take you to my squad-at least whats left of it." The proceeded through the clump of bushes to the scene of what looked like a massacre. Shell casings littered the ground, and a marine with his throat torn out lay off to the side, clutching his shotgun. Another lay face down, a large puddle of red surrounding him.

A third, unidentifiable body lay twenty feet away, the nearby rifle and scraps of metal identifying him as a marine. Judging by the amount of yoma lying around the sqaud, they must have run into the band that attacked their helo. Poor bastards.

Raki went over to one of the bodies and took his shotgun. "Our sergant." Raki nodded his respects and retrieved whatever ammo he had left. "So how many left?" He asked, Deneve glared at him-technically claymores even of the lowest rank out ranked even the highest of marine officers-but marines more often than not, just like claymores, were more easily dealt with by their own kind. "Just me, Beckhart"-He gestured to a marine with a large black case on his back-a long range radio of some kind",and Doc here...and-" He said, more than a bit of resentment in his voice, "Our paitent."

"Shit-that's our pilot." The medic looked up at them. "So wait-you guys are the crew of that lepord that went down?" "No, only part of it-we were flung from it as it went down." The medic stood and looked them both over. "Holy shit-I mean I can understand a claymore surviving a hit like that, but a marine-damn!" He turned back to Clarice. "You three." She snapped to the two marines and Raki. "Form a perimeter."

"Now wait a minuet-we came down here to-" Deneve cut him off with a wave. "We have wounded, and the enemy has only retreated to just beyond these woods-and yet here you are arguing with me like a stubborn child when you should be doing your job." She could sense the aura of the yoma-see it even-a sickly yellow color, with similar feeling to match-as if though she were imagining rotten meat, spoiled milk and bad eggs all together in a vile mix. "They're most likely regrouping for another assault." A cold smile crossed her lips. "Must be because of the banquet your squad so conveniently provided them."

The all-too casual tone implied that she found the whole situation amusing. "Grab what ever cover you can find and fortify our positon!" The claymore said softly, shifting to a fighting stance."I will take the first wave." Her tone brooked no room for disagreement The marines, cursing under their breath and heaving all the while, dragging pine branches they hacked off with their bayonets and rolling several large rocks to add as corner stones and possibly add some kind of solid cover-the whole thing was an absurd and pathetic sight-but it would aford the marines some protection from the long tendril-like spikes the yoma tended to launch at them.

Of course-cover wouldn't matter once they crossed over the makeshift bunker.

"Grab whatever munitions you can find and divide them among yourselves as best you can." She tensed at the sound of leaves rusltling and branches breaking. She heard the growls, becoming ever louder. Shit...Too many for her to handle, and the squad behind her was a light scout unit-not meant for a drawn out confrontation.

Sometimes-Deneve wished she hadn't been a coward that was afraid to die...but it seems that she wasn't unable to overcome that fear. "I'll hold them off as long as I can-take out any that get by me."

"Right-Doc-how's the patient doing?" "Not good," The medic's voice was colored with worry, "She's healing, but not as fast as she should-we try to move her..." His voice trailed off. "Son of a bitch-alright-some one try to get command on the horn-we need some kind of evac out of here." One of them-Beckhart-pulled a radio attached to his pack and began to speak. _"This E-237-Delta 6-we have located members of the crew of the crashed Leopard and sustained heavy casualties-three fatalities and one critical injury-coordinates L483-Niner-2084-repeat-we are request immedeate evac and dust off-come in command."_

_"Roger that Delta 6-we currently unable to provide dust-off-area around the LZ's too hot-we do how ever have a secound unit inbound for the crash site-ETA 15 minuets-can you hold?"_ Came the reply, garbled and full of static-the voice was all too calm for a situation like this.

The marine shook his head at the response to his plea fo help. "We've got hostiles inbound and are currently low on ammo-we've got some cover-don't know if we'll hold that long."

_"Understood. We'll try to get help as soon as possible-hold as long as you can. Command over and out." _

"Those cockbites-they know damned well a recon squad can't hold out against a long term confrontation." One of them swore angerly. "Not like we have a choice." Raki replied, his tone nervous, taking aim at the bushes. "Anyone got some grenades-we can chuck a couple, might take a couple out.

"Yea-you must be a rookie." One of the marines shook his head, "We've got some-but they don't do much good against these things-too fast unless we time it right." "What?" He replied back frantically, "But in basic they told us-"

"Forget what you learned in basic-grenades are only useful if we can actually get the time to pull the pin and only then when we actually have a clear veiw." The sudden burst of movement from the bushes hailed the arival of their attackers. "Shit-they're here"

_"This E-237-Delta 6-we have located members of the crew of the crashed Leopard and sustained heavy casualties-three fatailites and one critical injury-coordinates L483-Niner-2084-repeat-we are request immediate evac and dust off-come in command."_

_"Roger that Delta 6-we currently unable to provide dust-off-area around the LZ's too hot-we do how ever have a secound unit inbound for the crash site-ETA 15 minuets-can you hold?" _

_"We've got hostiles inbound and are currently low on ammo-we've got some cover-don't know if we'll hold that long."_

_"Understood. We'll try to get help as soon as possible-hold as long as you can. Command over and out." _

"Whoa." Helen said as the transmission played-"Sounds like the rook and Deneve have been picked up-probably the pilot too." Miria shook her head-"Any one of those fatalities could've been them."

"But still-we should probably head to those coordinates-Michael, wasn't it?" the marine looked up at her-he had been forced to rest after reopening one of his wounds-they hadn't gone very far into the battle site when he had reopened his wound. "Can you make it." It was not a question. "Aye ma'am." His tone was probably more confident that he was feeling as he stood-casing a fresh wash of blood to leak down his leg. Sholdering his rifle, he nodded to her. 'Tough bastard.' She thought as he he unslung the weapon and moved into formation with the others. "Alright-judging by the sounds of it, this unit-Delta 6-won't last until that unit arrives-its up to us to try and get to them before their overrun." Miria stated cooly, her expression neutral. "We can get their aid, but we'll need to hurry. Michael."

"Yeah?" He was clearly making an effort to hold himself up. "Think a tough marine like you can swallow his pride long enough to be carried by a couple of little girls?" That brought a chuckle, albet strained, from the wounded man. "Yeah," He said weakly, using the rifle as a support, "Think I can." She nodded and signaled to the other two-they slung an arm over each sholder and helped as he slung the rifle over his shoulder. "Try not to jostle him too much-we need everyone on this."

"Shit!" Raki fired his shotgun, alternating from left to right-partially exposed to incoming tenticle spikes-what the hell else could they be called? One of them missed his head narrowly-and he returned the favor with a not-so nice respose from his own weapon. "Get down dumbass!" He felt a hand jerk him down. "You might have heavier armor-but if one of those gets through your helmet-your fucked." The radioman peek out and let loose a burst of rifle fire, dropping a pair of yoma just as they tried to get behind the claymore fighting just outside the barricade.

"FRAG OUT!" One of them bellowed, tossing a grenade then ducking back behind the flimsy wall of pine and stone-they had already had several close calls-the closest where a tendril had gotten through and punched a hole in the bag of plasma he was holding over Clarice.

A loud boom followed by anguished roars and a bellowed oath from Deneve said that the grenade had hit is mark. "Watch it!" They heard the claymore shout, Peeking up, they saw she had been peppered with fragments-bit of jagged metal stuck out of her left arm, upper right thigh, and part of her abdomen. "Ah shit...here they come again."

Her ears ringing from the blast, searing pain lancing through her as blood trickled down her legs. The warning for the grenade had come almost too late as it had landed in front of her-and the marine who threw it must have set it on a short fuse-but despite her self, she grinned at the damage it had done-most of the yoma who had been attacking her were either dead, dying or retreating for a second try.

"Shit-" She gasped, sinking to one knee-more blood poured from the numerous wounds-nothing vital had been pierced, but still, the loss of blood was taking its toll-her sword felt heavy despite her increased strength, and her vision was blurring at the edges. She felt hands grab her and help her back. "Damn girl-what the hell were you thinking?" One of the marines said, pulling her over the makeshift wall. He heard another set of roars coming from the bushes. "Set grenades to short fuses-wait for my command to throw!" If they were using grenades against yoma-this meant it was bad-low on ammo, waiting for evac and two wounded-"Fix bayonets and be ready for hand to hand combat." Raki pulled the spare baynoet to the shotgun and prepared himself.

He prayed silently, hoping that any deity was listening. An icy dagger dropped into his stomach as he saw them come through the bushes, their brown hides showing the muscles rippling through them, the bloodlust in their yellow eyes and their slavering mouths. "Throw now!" Several grenades sailed out-their timers set on a short fuse and detonating almost level with the pack's heads-sending lethal shrapnel through them. Purple blood flew and several bloody somethings flew with the combined force of the concussion generated by the explosion and flying shrapnel-not event the hide of the yoma could stand against that.

With their frontal assault demolished-the remaining yoma were too dazed to mount an effective response-until their friends came through. "Second round-throw!" The second wave was less deterred by the volley, and thus the grenades were not as effective. "Shit-open fire." Raki put a shell through a yoma's chest, followed by a second through another's leg-the recoil despite his inhuman strength was almost too much for him to handle-no wonder these things were popular only with the strongest marines-the kick was almost unmanageable.

He worked the pump then fired again-this time finishing the job. Another one lept over its comrade, intent on devouring him. He raised his weapon, fingered the trigger and-chic! The yoma roared again and the young marine thrust upwards-the gun wrenched out of his hands as the now deceased yoma's dead weight carried it with it, sailing just beyond his reach. "Shit-breach in the perimeter!" The marines were now swinging their bayonets frantically-Raki had drawn his fletchett pistol and began firing-his aim slightly off because of his laying down position. Deneve had joined in-her sword flashing left and right.

'This is it-we've just bought it-my first mission and I'm already gonna die.' Raki thought hopelessly as his magazine clicked dry. He had now ammo left and only one grenade-he reached for the pin as a yoma, see the prone soldier on the ground, went for him. He squeezed his eyes shut, caressed the pin on the grenade-Brrruuuaap!

"Holy shit!" He opened his eyes and saw that the yoma who had gone for him was dead, its head and upper torso a tattered ruin. A shotgun boomed somewhere in the distance. "Nice of you all to show up!" He heard someone say. Propping himself up on his left elbow and using his right to help him peer over the barricade-he saw exactly was his fellow marines were going on about-it was his sqadron and one of the gunners. Though armed only with firearms, they were going through their enemy like a hot knife through butter. He could help it-he began to cheer, relief flooding him-he could see he wasn't alone-the others had joined in.

"Good to see all of you are alive." Miria said as they all clambered over the barricade. "You look like shit." Helen said as she looked her friend over. "You're one to talk." Deneve retorted as they bumped their fists together. Raki looked back to where the medic was-he was talking with the captain as they checked Clarice. He didn't hear the movement behind him. "Hey! Watch out!"

"Wha-" Clunk! He was sent flying as a huge, black form slammed a giant, clawed hand. "Shit-get it!" Gunfire sounded throught the area as the squad killed the yoma that had smacked him. A few seconds later-"Damn it-someone check on Raki." And he blacked out for the secound time that day...

XXXXXXX

Whew-this new format takes awhile and has the greater potential for writer's burnout. Once again apologies for crappy writing/grammer/spelling. Still don't have beta reader so please point out any mistakes-sorry for the wait.


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